


Desiderium

by CarpeDM



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Background Relationships, Book 3: The Burning Maze (Trials of Apollo), Canon Compliant, Friendship, No Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDM/pseuds/CarpeDM
Summary: Desiderium.Definition: an ardent desire or longing; especially: a feeling of loss or grief for something lost.Written for More Than Myths, a Riordanverse zine.





	Desiderium

**Author's Note:**

> I was honoured to be asked for the More Than Myths Riordanverse zine as a guest writer. I chose to write this fic to work through the events in The Burning Maze, and I am quite pleased with the results. I hope you will be too.

Nico couldn’t see what was going on. He only caught flashes—a large room with an ornate throne at the center. Then he saw wind whipping around, the glimmer of gold and bronze, and hundreds of little cuts on skin, drawing faint amounts of blood. He heard screams, and he strained his ears but the wind was too loud for him to make anything out. 

There was a sudden explosion, and the howling of the wind was replaced with the clanging of weapons and the low rumble of thunder. Water rushed in from the sides, and arrows rained down from the sky; he was trapped, and he knew it. 

The last thing he saw was the flash of a golden spear.

He shot awake. Memory still flashing with chaotic images, he couldn’t remember who or where he was. After a few moments, he recognized his bed and the quiet darkness of Cabin Thirteen. It must have been a dream, though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

The moment he crawled out of bed and let his feet touch the floor he doubled over, groaning and clutching his head. There was a loud buzz in his head, the kind that threatened to split his skull wide open, and it only grew louder and louder, until suddenly it stopped, leaving him with a ringing in his ears. 

He clutched his stomach to stem the rising tide of nausea, and ran off towards the bathroom, hoping against all hope that it was all a cruel joke, played on him by the gods. 

 

He knew. He’d known the second his ears had started buzzing. He knew exactly who, and what, and where. As if the knowledge alone wasn’t enough to smash his heart into little pieces, someone out there had been cruel enough to have him witness it in his dream. 

Wiping his mouth off, he got to his feet and leaned against the tiled wall, letting the cold soak into his clammy skin. It wasn’t until the tiles started cracking that he walked out of the bathroom and went back into his cabin, pulling his clothes on and heading out the door, the grass withering under his feet with every step he took.

 

His heart sank when he entered Cabin One. Through the faint moonlight he could see specks of dust floating in the air, a clear sign that nobody had been there in months. There was a fine layer of dust on the windowsills, the floor, and the cot tucked away behind the statue of Zeus, staring down at him with a disapproving look. Gods, he really wanted to smash that statue to pieces right now.

He rubbed his temples and sat down on the cot. The wall beside it was bare, stripped of all personal belongings. He remembered the few pictures and messy sketches that used to hang there, the notebooks and sketchbooks tucked into a cubby carved out from the wall by the cabin’s previous occupant, years ago.

The only thing that remained was a duffel bag, propped up against the wall on the other side of the cot. He reached out and pulled it closer, zipping it open. Tears welled up in his eyes the moment the smell of the clothes reached him. Citrus and pine, as fresh as if his clothes had been washed just yesterday. 

He pulled out the first thing he saw, a soft shirt, and hugged it to his chest. The smell always comforted him, but this time it did little to alleviate the pain building up inside him.

He held onto the shirt and got up, slowly feeling around until he found the rungs of the ladder behind the statue. Climbing up, he pushed the hatch open, the moonlight and ever-present smell of strawberries greeting him.

Carefully, he climbed up on the ledge and sat down, feet dangling off the edge of the roof. This was where Jason had always come to be alone. Where they’d spent endless hours talking to each other, getting to know each other better, without having to be on watch duty or the chance of being rushed into another battle. The place where they’d both been able to let their guards down, and where their friendship had had a chance to firmly cement, after the war was over. 

As much as he didn’t want to think about it, he knew those times weren’t ever coming back again, and it hurt more than any wound he’d gotten during the wars.

He folded the shirt and laid it in his lap, smoothing the wrinkles out with his thumbs, and stared out across the Long Island Sound, beautiful as ever, with the moonlight glistening on the surface of the water.

He sat there for a long time, listening to the harpies shriek in the distance, until he finally broke his silence.

“You’re gone,” he whispered. “You’re really gone…”

He’d barely gotten the words out before he broke into a sob. He didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to show emotion and feel vulnerable. Most of all, he didn’t want to acknowledge that it had really happened. He wanted to curl up, and ignore that someone out there had taken his best friend, yet another person he loved.

But there was no way he could. He’d felt it. The buzzing in his ears, he’d felt it before. Years ago, when he’d lost his sister, before he’d known what it meant, before he’d found out he was a child of the Underworld. He’d felt Jason pass, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

He swallowed the tears away, until a soft voice spoke in his head. “It’s okay,” it said, like it had said dozens of times before, when he’d been sitting in the exact same spot. He felt the ghost of a hand on his shoulder, careful, tentative, like it wasn’t sure whether it could—should—touch, until it made up its mind.

That did it; he let out a cry and tugged at his hair as the tears started flowing uncontrollably. There was no fixing this. _It’s okay_ wasn’t going to cut it. It wasn’t okay, none of it was okay, and it was never going to be okay again. 

He pounded his fists on the roof. It was so godsdamned unfair. After two wars that had asked everything they had to give and more, there was another. Nobody, not even the strongest demigods, should have to face three wars in a lifetime, much less in the span of their teenage years. A few months’ reprieve was all they’d gotten, only to be thrust into yet another war, one they’d survived by the skin of their teeth.

The wars had finally been over. They’d been given the time to rest, to relax, to start healing from all the physical and mental scars the Titan and Giant wars had left behind. People had started college, had gone back to school, had gone _home_. And it was like nothing of what they’d done to stop the first two wars had mattered. Not with another war right on the doorstep. Not with more bloodshed, pain, and suffering. Not when it left a hole in their hearts, and a cabin—a home—without a demigod to return to it. 

It seemed like yesterday that Jason had found the home he’d so badly desired for all his life. He’d found family he hadn’t remembered he had, he’d found friends for life, he’d found love, even if he doubted it sometimes. He’d gone back to school, fully intending to make something of himself, to not let himself be defined by his status as a demigod, as a _hero_. 

Nico remembered the day Jason had told him about leaving. He’d be back once summer rolled around. He’d promised. He’d held out his fist and the moment Nico had been stupid enough to try and pound it, Jason had pulled him into one of his patented bear hugs. Nico pretended he didn’t like them, but he’d never felt safer than in those moments.

They’d laughed and made plans for the future. With the wars over, they’d had time to discover who they were, who they wanted to be, and all of that had been taken away in the blink of an eye. 

_It wasn’t fair._ He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. Hadn’t been able to tell Jason just how much he valued their friendship. There was so much he’d wanted to tell him still, and now he’d never get the chance. 

It was early in the morning when the sobs faded to hiccups. The screeching of the harpies he’d heard all night was fading into nothing, and the first rays of sunlight lazily filtered through the trees. The shirt was still in his lap, crumpled and wrinkled and damp from all the tears that had fallen.

Behind him, he could hear someone stumbling up the ladder, and when the hatch opened, Percy crawled up onto the ledge beside him. “I thought I’d find you here,” he said quietly. 

Nico said nothing. He didn’t know what to say.

“I came as soon as I found out,” Percy said quietly. “Grover… He… The empathy link…” He sighed, reaching out to lay a hand on Nico’s shoulder, only to change his mind at the last second. “I’m so sorry.”

Nico shook his head and wiped at his nose. He didn’t want to cry in front of Percy, but there was no stopping it. “I felt it,” he rasped. “ _I felt it._ ”

“I’m so sorry. He…” Percy wrung his hands. “He was brave.”

Nico didn’t respond. There was nothing anyone could say that would make things better. Words were hollow, without meaning. Nothing Percy could say would make things better.

Eventually, Percy got to his feet. When Nico looked up, he could see tear tracks on Percy’s cheeks. “I’ll find you later,” he said quietly. “I should talk to Chiron. Make sure he knows.”

“Wait…” Nico whispered, but it was loud enough to make Percy stop and sit back down. “I need to know…”

“You don’t have to talk about it. Not now.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” he shouted, before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I’m sorry. Please, just tell me.”

Percy wrung his hands and stared out across the Sound before he started talking. He told Nico how he’d dreamt about Lester, Meg, and Grover, and how he hadn’t realized it was the empathy link until after he’d woken up. He talked about the conversation Lester had had with Grover, about the burning maze and the trapped oracle, about how Jason had found her a few weeks prior. She’d prophesized a death, and Jason had known it would be his or Piper’s. 

He told Nico about how Jason had kept the prophecy to himself, how he’d quietly accepted his death; he’d sacrifice himself to protect Piper, even though they’d broken up. 

Nico looked up at Percy, staring at him in disbelief. A bitter laugh bubbled up from his throat. “He did _what_? Oh, gods. That’s so _typical_ of him. Of course he thought he could go at it alone. Of course he had to be all noble, trying to protect everyone.”

“Nico…”

“No, shut up! What kind of stupid idea was that?!” His voice cracked. “What kind of… Why would he…” He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

He felt Percy’s hand on his arm and angrily shook it off. He didn’t need comfort. He needed Jason back. He needed him, for once in his life, to not have been a damned hero. 

After a while, he lifted his head. The anger had passed, having been replaced with a dark sadness that hung over him like a thick blanket. 

Percy waited for Nico to calm down before he continued his story. His voice cracked as he told Nico about the yachts, how Jason had gotten captured and had all but destroyed a boat in an effort to buy time for the others to escape. He didn’t tell Nico the details, and Nico was grateful for it. He was barely holding it together as it was.

“He’s so stupid,” Nico ground out. “Why would he do this? He had friends, and he was home here, and… He could have asked for help!” He ground his teeth, hands shaking from anger. He wanted to tear the shirt on his lap into little pieces, tear the whole cabin down with his bare hands, but he knew it wouldn’t solve anything. 

In the back of his mind, he knew nothing could have changed what the fates dictated, but he didn’t want to listen. Rationality was out the window; there was no reason, only emotions he felt too deeply, emotions that threatened to tear him apart.

“I know,” Percy said. “Trust me. I know.”

“You should go,” Nico said tersely. He didn’t need Percy’s platitudes, even though he knew he meant well. He just wanted to be left alone with his grief.

Percy nodded and got up, slowly making his way down the ladder. “I’ll be at camp for a few more days if you need me,” he said, before shutting the hatch behind him. 

Nico pulled his legs up onto the ledge and hugged his knees to his chest, wiping the tears off his face. Around him, he could hear the camp slowly waking up, but he wasn’t going to get off the roof anytime soon. Nobody would find him there, and he could be alone for a little while longer.

 

~

 

Nico shuffled into the amphitheater and took a seat by himself. He was allowed to sit with the Apollo cabin, and nobody would blame him if he joined them, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be alone with his grief and process his emotions in solitude. As kind as everyone had been, he couldn’t deal with people trying to cheer him up. Not now. 

Slowly, the amphitheatre filled up with campers, most of them familiar faces by now. He closed his eyes and thought back to how, before he’d left, Jason would sit a little ways away from him; far enough for them to not sit together and break camp rules, but close enough all the same. They’d had some happy moments around this campfire, and now it would never feel the same. 

He folded the shroud onto his lap, inwardly cursing himself for doing such a sloppy job. He knew nothing about working with fabric, and plenty of people had offered to help him, but he’d turned them all down. Jason’s final honor wasn’t going to be made by someone else’s hands.

Finally, Chiron stepped into the amphitheater, a grave look on his face. He didn’t need to ask for silence, not this time; all campers quietly looked up at him. 

“Campers,” he said. “Yesterday morning, the sad news of Jason Grace’s death reached us. Born a Roman, he chose to make this camp his home, and as such, and as one of the heroes of the great prophecy, we’ve gathered here to pay tribute. I have asked Nico di Angelo to pay the final honors.” He bowed in front of the campfire. “Go with the gods, Jason.”

Nico got to his feet, all too aware of everyone’s eyes on him. He’d never liked being the center of attention, but he owed it to Jason. He clutched the shroud to his chest and went to stand next to Chiron, who took a respectful step back.

For a minute, the only sound he could hear was the crackling of the campfire in front of him. It was sending up thick black plumes of smoke, dispersing high up in the air and making it look like storm clouds were rolling in. It reminded him of Jason, and he gripped the shroud just a little bit tighter. 

He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths before he started speaking.

“They say that heroes don’t get happy endings,” he said. “And Jason Grace was a hero. The kind written about in storybooks, bordering on annoyingly perfect.” He managed a faint smile. “The kind of hero that only comes along when the world needs them most.

“He was born a Roman, but it was too narrow a definition for him. Being Roman just wasn’t enough. He chose to live among us Greeks and found peace in that decision, the knowledge that he didn’t have to be bound to a single side of a coin being a comfort to him. He was one of us, too.

"He was the kind of person everyone looked up to. Kind, reliable, always there if you needed him. He was accepting, and compassionate, and when he made a promise, he wouldn’t go back on it.”

Nico swallowed thickly. He’d practiced this speech many times, in the privacy of his cabin, but getting the words out hadn’t gotten any easier. It was hard to laud Jason and focus on all the positives when his emotions were still so high.

"Jason had a strong sense of justice. He stuck up for the little guy, for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves, for the weaker, for the forgotten, for all of us. He couldn’t stand injustice.

“As the son of Jupiter, a lot was expected of him, and he knew that. He lived up to impossible standards, and he did it with dignity. Centurion of the Fifth Cohort, Praetor of the Twelfth Legion, _Pontifex Maximus_. He took up any mantle the world needed him to take up, and he never complained, but I know even Jason had his doubts. He was scared, just like all of us, but his sense of honor never wavered.”

"I hope he’s at peace,” he said quietly, looking down. “Jason lived the last few weeks knowing that he was going to die, and he accepted his fate. He paid the ultimate sacrifice in a war that wasn’t his own, laying down his life so that others might live. Because that’s the kind of person he was.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he had to swallow back the feeling of helplessness that bubbled up to the surface. Foolish Jason. Dumb, foolish, _perfect_ Jason, thinking he could save the world by sacrificing himself.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “He had hopes, dreams, and plans for the future,” he said, pausing to steady his voice. “None of those things should die with him. He made a promise to make sure that all the gods, especially the minor ones, are honored. In his memory, we should finish what he started."

“We all lost a friend, and it’s going to take time to heal. The best thing we can do is never to forget the sacrifice he made for us all. We have to keep him in our memories, and follow his example. We have to make sure to be kind to one another, to respect one another, to be as accepting as he was. He left this world a better place than he found it, in spite of what life threw at him, and for that we owe him our gratitude and respect.”

“Jason Grace was my best friend. And now he’s gone…” He shook his head and took a moment to regain his composure. “It’s hard to say goodbye,” he said, voice cracking. “But we do what must be done and continue on. Thank you, Jason,” he said, bowing at the campfire respectfully, “for everything you’ve done. For your leadership, your sacrifices, and your friendship. It was an honor knowing you.”

He was barely keeping it together, tears pricking his eyes, when he stepped forward and unfurled the shroud. He’d expected the shitty sheet he’d tried so hard to turn into something worthy of Jason, but instead it was a gorgeous sky blue silk with a white eagle emblazoned on it. When it moved in the breeze, the ripples flashed across it like lightning. 

His mouth fell open and he almost dropped the shroud when he saw a little girl sitting on the ground next to the campfire. She smiled warmly at him and nodded, and after he blinked the tears from his eyes, she was gone again. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, barely audible, but he was certain she’d heard him. 

He took a second to collect himself, then stepped forward and set it on the flames. It went up in seconds, filling the amphitheater with the smell of fresh air after a storm.

The road ahead wasn’t going to be easy. It would take a while before he could move on from the anger and sadness, the bitterness that made his stomach turn with every step he took. Jason’s death would leave a lasting mark on his heart, alongside the one he already carried. 

Nico took a deep breath. Grief was never easy, and perhaps he knew that better than most. Grief took time and wouldn’t let itself be rushed. It was full of emotions he would pay anything not to have to experience again. But he didn’t have a choice.

The only thing he could do was take time to heal, and follow in Jason’s footsteps. He would honor him throughout his life. Jason’s death wouldn’t be in vain. He’d live on through the shrines they’d build, and the work they’d finish. His legacy would last forever, Nico would make sure of it.

He took a deep breath and stared up at the campfire. The last of the sparks produced by the shroud were carried up into the sky, higher and higher until finally extinguishing.

“Farewell, Jason,” he whispered. “Until we meet again.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was very hard to write, and I've been sitting on it for a while so I was happy I finally had the time to post this. 
> 
> Thank you to Gabe for betaing, and Kristi for being my sounding board.
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Please leave me a comment.


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